


Overwatch

by econator



Category: Christian Lore, Formula 1 RPF, Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Discussion of Bondage, Feels, Gen, discussion of Jev's kinks, discussion of anal play, discussion of exhibitionism/voyeurism, discussion of golden showers, setting up Jeandré
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-17 10:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/econator/pseuds/econator
Summary: Someone posted on Tumblr that they wanted more fics of Jules in Heaven. This is building on dorythebrown’s universe from the pair of ‘Jules Goes To Heaven’ fics, used with permission. It’s kind of a drabble series that’ll get added to over time as the little ficlets of Jules being Overwatch (in the sense that Felicity Smoak is called Overwatch, not the game) surface and are finished.





	1. An Unexpected Alliance

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Jules Goes To Heaven Part II - Healing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580719) by [dorythebrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorythebrown/pseuds/dorythebrown). 



> In my headcanon, Jules and Jev had a long-standing…something, like a tender, secret, speak-French-around-foreigners thing that outlasted all the little flings they had with others. Like maybe they were each other’s first time, or something. So Junior is still part of the story because I like dad!Jules and it’s not like young queer racers don’t bang women to hide the gay, but Jev’s emotion over Jules’ death is real in this series. Junior’s age is unclear in Dory’s fics, so I’m assuming he was sent to Heaven when Jules was at most twenty, because he got paid racing gigs after that. Most abortions are for economic reasons. I’m going with that as the reason why they made that choice, because he seemed like he’d be a great dad. That all said, Junior would be somewhere between eight and twelve. I’m assuming on the younger side, because of his sweet innocence in Dory’s fics.
> 
> OFC ‘Zigi’ is a friend of mine who passed in April 2017. (Of a fucking pulmonary embolism, that she got from breaking her leg on some slippery stairs. For all the irresponsible drinking she did, she died of a sober accident. She would’ve appreciated the irony of that in a ‘loud belly laugh’ kind of way.) She was in my prayer circle, so, although she wasn’t into racing, she had Jules on her prayer list for nine months. And she had Jev on her prayer list for the time he was depressed after losing Jules and the STR drive until she passed. She agreed ‘Homeboy’ was grieving hard when I showed her before and after pics. Her baby brother is still on my prayer list. Her afro was never that big IRL, but growing a Young Diana Ross was #goals. If I’m giving her a heavenly body, she’s keeping the ample ass she was so proud of cultivating, and she’s getting a Young Diana Ross afro.

Jules watched Junior play from the side of the field, his scarf loosely wound around his neck to protect from the chilly spring breeze. Junior had grown in the time since Jules arrived here, regularly making Jules glad that he didn’t need to parent such an uninhibited child in a universe that included death. _Almost two years now. Wow. That’s a weird thought. Jev’s had two birthdays without me. I’ve had two arrivaldays with Junior_. He smelled Holy Spirit’s approach before he could dig into it, and turned to smile in her direction, glad of a distraction from uncomfortable thoughts.

‘Junior’s doing so well in the soccer league,’ she thought in his head as she approached.

‘Football.’

Holy Spirit filled his body with tingly joy as she nudged him. ‘I was just messing with you. He’s doing well, though. Growing like a weed.’

‘Yeah. Getting better at racing, too.’

‘There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’ A volumptuous woman with an impressively large afro walked up and stood a few metres away. ‘Jules, Zigi, I’d like you to meet each other. I think Zigi would make a good aunt for Junior.’

Jules looked over at Zigi. She looked at him. ‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi,’ he said, nodding. He furiously thought at Holy Spirit. ‘I don’t need new friends. I have enough friends at the racing club. I have Junior, and work. Junior has James and the other kids at the daycare. We’re not lonely or bored. We don’t need new friends.’

‘Zigi,’ Holy Spirit said out loud, ‘works in recycling. I want her to help you with your little Jev problem.’

Jules glared at Spirit, crossing his arms. ‘Jev’s feelings are Jev’s business,’ he thought. ‘I can’t believe you’d tell a stranger about that.’

Zigi looked at Jules’ face and obviously defensive stance. ‘Oh, it’s chill. I was clued in on his feelings drama before I died. I had a friend who had at least two points about racing drivers to put on my prayer list every week when we met up. When you were in a coma, it was you. When you died, she swapped you out for your family. When it was clear your sweet homeboy was losing his shit, he was put on the list too. Rosberg’s title was on the list for like two years.’

‘Is it that obvious? To outsiders, I mean. Jev’s feelings. I don’t remember seeing you around the paddock. I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered you. So it must be visible to the fans. It can’t cost Jev his drive. It just can’t. He’s worked so hard to get what he has.’

‘One, he’s got a really expressive face. You can tell his mood from a photo. Two, now I have access to all Jev’s dreams, because the last person assigned to recycle them got sick of him digging them up every time.’

‘Really? What dreams of his do you recycle?’

‘You and him sharing a podium in red suits. I gather that means something, because there’s never branding on the suits, just Marlboro red.’

‘That is branding. Marlboro branding. They’ve been Ferrari sponsors for years, and just stepped back the graphics to comply with regulations.’

‘Oh. Right. Cigarette advertising laws in Europe. Anyway, there’s that dream that he usually digs up the same day it gets recycled. And there’s one of you and him all old and grey and still in love, with dogs in the yard, schmoopy Labrador retrievers who’re all wags and slobber, and grown-up kids at the table and grandbabies and a cat wrestling for space on his knee.’

Jules felt the breath leave him for a moment. Jev’s domestic fantasies were far more detailed than he’d ever seen on the prayer feed, and knowing he was still nursing the pain of that loss felt like a punch to the guts. Holy Spirit rubbed his back until he recovered his calm. ‘He never told me about that.’

‘He thinks about it a lot. Maybe it’s regret over not telling you? Spirit? Got any insight here?’

‘You’ll figure it out. This is an exercise in empathy for you both. I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Maybe homeboy’s got unfinished business with you, and until he moves on, he won’t let it be recycled.’

‘Jules, instead of going to work tomorrow, why don’t you go down the recycling centre with Zigi, and see what working together on this will do for you?’

His eyes flicked to Holy Spirit. He sensed she was making a point that would become clear in time. ‘Sure. I’ll come by at nine.’ She left with a gust of perfumed wind.

‘Papa, did you see that epic setup I made?’ Junior called, running up and hugging Jules.

Jules squeezed Junior’s shoulders to his chest, feeling immensely grateful to have his son in his arms. He fluffed Junior’s hair. ‘I did. It was amazing! Have you met Zigi?’

‘That’s Aunty Zigi, kid. If you play your cards right, I’ll teach you to burp your name.’

‘Cool! Can you teach me other stuff too?’

Zigi laughed. ‘Not in front of your dad.’

Junior held his fist out for Zigi to bump. He winked and tapped his nose before wrapping his arms around Jules’ waist, snuggling against him. Jules looked from his kid to the woman standing next to him. _Well, if Junior likes her, she must be okay_. He put his hand on Junior’s shoulder. ‘We should be going. Food. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘See you tomorrow.’

Zigi looked like she was nervous that he might try to hug her. He smiled and nodded. She nodded back, holding out her fist for him to bump. They walked away from the pitch in separate directions, Jules walking Junior three blocks too far west to avoid seeming like an awkward stalker if she lived near him. _I wonder what’s got Jev so stuck? I’ve been doing my best, but…ugh. I don’t even know what to do about my sweet, soft-hearted boy_.


	2. Recycling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules goes to the Recycling Centre to help Zigi clear Jev's log-jammed mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original cameo characters are entirely fictional

Jules sensed Holy Spirit before he saw her. He was on his way to find the recycling centre before dinner with Junior and the racing club people. At least, that was the hope. He’d been having some trouble with Jev’s feed lately. He wasn’t yet out of the woods after the Red Bull thing, still hounded by ghosts whispering in his ears. Holy Spirit’s scent enveloped Jules, filling his mind with happy memories of his time with Jev. She lifted her hand, and sprinkled a little bit of snow in front of Jules’ face. He laughed and stuck his tongue out, catching the flakes falling from her hand. Holy Spirit giggled.

‘I see you’re getting into your new assignment today,’ she said, putting her arm around Jules’ shoulders and sending a happy tingle down his spine.

‘Why am I not doing well on the prayers? You heard what I was thinking about Jev. Do you also think I’m doing a rubbish job?’

‘You’re doing very well. He’s doing better for all your hard work, trying to orchestrate good things for him. But eternity is long, and we don’t want you getting bored. Zigi’ll help you with the Jev thing.’

‘I’m less convinced than you are about that.’

‘She’s new here. She’s also reticent about making friends, and one of her friends had her praying for you and Jev for months before she came here. You’ll work well together.’

Holy Spirit ducked down a side street, making Jules re-trace his steps. When he caught up with her, she was perched in a tree outside a building that looked as old as time itself. Plants were growing out of gaps in the gold brickwork, housing nests of birds.

‘What is this place?’

‘Lost and found. It’s where dreams come to be recycled and rehomed.’

Jules snorted.

‘Dreams aren’t rehomed. They just die because they were pointless and we outgrew them. Or die because we failed. Whichever comes first.’

Holy Spirit smiled. She pushed open the door, sending a spider scurrying into the bush above the lintel. Jules warily followed her into the building, unsure of its structural stability.

‘Calm down,’ Holy Spirit said. ‘The roots secure the building instead of destroying it. They hold the bricks together far better than any mortar humans have invented.’

‘Oh.’

Jules followed Holy Spirit down a dimly-lit corridor that was lined with cases of index cards. He thought it was quite morbid that dreams went to a dusty decrepit library when their originators were finished with them. Holy Spirit laughed, and paused. A squirrel scurried past, opened a drawer, and pulled out a Polaroid of a huge, fresh acorn. The squirrel sighed.

‘Another one,’ he mumbled to himself, before shaking his head. ‘This guy was obsessed with the fucking acorns. Hungary will be covered in fucking oaks before this fucker is done dreaming about fucking acorns.’ The squirrel scurried back down the corridor, carrying his Polaroid of the acorn. Jules stared after him, confused. Holy Spirit took his hand, and started them walking again.

‘Not quite what you expected, huh?’

‘So what exactly do they do with the old dreams?’

‘They find new homes for them. They plant the seed in the mind of its new owner, and nurture it until it sprouts.’

‘Sounds like time-intensive work.’

‘Good thing you’re here for eternity, isn’t it?’

‘I’m going to rehome dreams with Zigi?’

‘Have you ever wondered why Jev’s been having meaningless fling after meaningless fling, intentionally sabotaging all of them so he can’t go back?’

Jules pursed his lips, annoyed that she answered a simple question with a complicated and unrelated one.

‘How many people’s old, discarded dreams am I rehoming?’

‘Just the one.’

Holy Spirit walked into a tiny room, filled with filing cabinets from floor to ceiling, and Zigi sitting on a swivel chair in front of a work station. Her skirt draped on the floor, making trails in the dust.

 ‘Hi,’ Jules said, giving her a polite nod.

‘Hi.’

‘I’ll leave you both to it. have fun, kids! Zigi will show you what to do.’ Holy Spirit kissed Jules’ cheek and rubbed his arm. ‘You’ll be fine.’ With that, she disappeared in a stiff breeze that blew through the office and dislodged a few dreams from an over-stuffed drawer. Zigi scooped the Polaroids off the floor, dumped them on the desk, and patted the chair next to her.

‘Cuppa tea?’

‘Thank you.’

It seemed rude to ask for coffee when there was already a pot of tea brewed. She reached over, poured him a mug, and handed it to him. Jules sat in the empty chair next to her, and took a sip of the tea. Msala chai, the way it had been brewed for him at the Indian GP. Jules indulged in a moment of nostalgia for younger, more innocent times in his career.

‘So, today we’re working on your old sweetheart, Jev. Again. This guy is bad at letting old dogs lie.’

Jules gulped his tea. After the dirty stories they’d told each other when they were dating, Jules worried that Jev’s dreams would be too depraved to be seen by someone devout enough to have attended preacher school. ‘Yeah, he’s…uh…’ Jules fiddled with the handle of his mug. ‘He’s on my prayer list.’

Zigi raised her eyebrows. ‘Prayer list. Right. After he keeps digging up all the dreams of his that I recycle – all dreams of you – and sits around, moping and self-flagellating about how he should’ve refused to start the race, or pestered – uh…the malicious gnome with the grey wig whose mission was to make everyone miserable? I don’t know his name, but you know the one, right? – anyway, he thinks he should’ve pestered that asshole to start earlier, or put laxatives in – tall, German, brunette pretty-boy with the giant and chronic crush on Hamilton? – anyway, that one, woulda, shoulda, coulda put shit juice in his food. Someone’s beating themselves up that much over you dying, and he’s just on your prayer list.’ She shifted her weight to the other ample butt cheek, giving Jules a pointed look. ‘Right. I’ll smile and nod, because you don’t seem keen to chat about the depraved details.’

‘The miserable gnome with the bad wig is called Bernie. Tall German with heart-eyes for Hamilton is Sutil.’ Jules took a sip of tea, bracing to ask for the info he really wanted to know. ‘What dreams does he keep digging up? Other than the two you told me about yesterday.’

‘I’ve made a collection of them.’ Zigi opened the drawer in front of Jules, and pulled out a picture. It was of Jev and Jules in Ferrari uniforms, standing on the podium. Jules felt melancholy for Jev’s mourned hope at sharing the F1 podium, but relieved that they were both clothed in the dream.

‘Winning together.’

‘This is by far the most vanilla of the old dreams he digs up, but let’s start with this one and I’ll show you what happens.’

‘Okay, let’s.’

Zigi tapped the screen in front of her.

‘Now we find someone to adopt the dream.’

‘Look for two boys from Nice, or somewhere near where I grew up.’ He pointed to a pair of profiles in the list of possibilities. ‘They’d do nicely.’

Zigi raised her eyebrow.

‘There are two Indian girls who love karting together. I’ve given it to them a few times before, and they did really well in their league until Jev dug it up and started missing you again. Let’s rehome it to them.’

‘Why not the French boys?’

‘Because…’ Zigi sighed. ‘The two boys in Nice…I’ve given it to them before too. I thought giving a Frenchie’s dreams to French kids had a pleasing circularity. But every time Jev takes it back, they’re distraught and their parents need to coax them back into the kart. The girls just keep going, maybe because it seems like karting is more about spending time together for them. I don’t know. The boys are less failure-resilient than the girls, or something. It breaks my heart to see them lose their love for racing every time.’

‘That sucks. Can you send them to my prayer list, and I’ll keep tabs on them from up the hill?’

‘Sure. I’ll send you the girls too. They could use some proper cover.’ She selected the four kids, and assigned them to Jules’ prayer list with a deft right click. ‘So what do you want to do about this one?’

‘So I can’t give them back to Jev, recycled with someone else that’s not me?’

Zigi tilted her head to the side. ‘No, probably not.’ She drummed her fingers against the desk. ‘Actually, let’s see what happens if we do. Maybe the point is that he’s been missing the dreams, and not knowing how to reshape them?’

‘Let’s give it a try.’

Zigi tried typing Jev’s name into the reassignment form. When she tabbed to the co-dreamer’s input box, an error message popped up. ‘Please perform this function from the duplication screen.’

Jules looked at Zigi. ‘Do you know where the duplication screen is?’

‘Nope. I’ve never used it.’ She stared up at the ceiling for a moment before snapping her fingers. ‘Two secs. I think I saw it in the functions menu.’ She tapped the screen a few times, and opened the duplication screen, entering a two when it asked how many duplications were required. ‘There. Right, let’s pick a new racing buddy for your ex.’

‘Who’s available for him to adopt as a bestie?’

Zigi tapped through to the search screen. ‘You do prayers for him, so I assume you see his updates feed. What’s he needy for right now?’

‘A top who isn’t a complete asshole, mostly. He goes to clubs and picks up guys who fuck him rough and leave when they’re done. No cuddles. No telling him how handsome he is. No aftercare. No nothing. I keep getting videos of him crying himself to sleep in hotel rooms in my feed, combined with desperate prayers for someone who cares for him as he is.’

She typed a few tags into the search bar. ‘What else? It can’t just be about the RLR.’

‘RLR?’

‘Relationships, lust, and romance. It was the heading of the sex section of my uni forums. When forums were still a thing, before the Facebook juggernaut rose from the depths of Hell to take over everyone’s lives.’

‘Jev loves modelling and posing for photos, so maybe someone who’s into photography?’

She entered it into the search bar, and drummed her fingertips on the table. ‘Oh, right, and he needs to be a racer.’ She input the tag. ‘Anything else?’

‘Speaks French well enough to understand Jev when he moans?’

‘We can do that.’ She entered the language preference and hit enter. The screen populated with results.

‘You have a choice of three. Which do you think would be best?’

Jules looked at the options. He tapped through to Rosberg’s profile, wondering if Jev could handle being with someone so pretty. He was still filling Jules’ prayer folder with requests to lose weight without getting sick, so maybe someone with Nico’s level of pure physical perfection would be too much for him right now. Zigi pointed at the bottom of the screen.

‘I’m not wrecking a home, especially not when his wife is on the pole. Move on.’

‘We wouldn’t be wrecking the home. Vivi’s his best mate; she’s in on the game. She just wanted the exceptionally pretty children, and a cut of the championship bonus.’

‘Still, move on. The amount of self-shaming dreams about carbs that he sends for recycling before acting on them, being with someone that perfect would mess with his head.’

‘I’m moving on because I had that same thought, not because I don’t think Vivi can handle having Jev as a sister wife.’ Jules scrolled past the next profile without even clicking it.

‘What’s wrong with that one? Single and childless, clearly a gay top. Takes spectacular photos.’

‘If Jev recycled those dreams before you got here and left them buried, I’ll leave you in the dark about that one.’

‘Fair enough. One left.’

‘Lotterer.’ Jules couldn’t keep the disdain out of his voice. He’d always rubbed Jules up the wrong way, mostly because Jev had always been a bit star-struck when he saw the multiple Le Mans winner at awards galas.

‘Is something wrong with him?’

‘No. Probably not. I don’t know. He just always seemed a bit sleazy. Jev used to fanboy about him when we were together.’

‘I understand why you don’t like him, if your ex had a crush on him while you were dating. Maybe André was just insecure and making up for it by being overbearing.’ Zigi tapped through to his file, and pointed to a list of bullet points entitled ‘Heartbreaks’ that was populated by exes treating him like shit to preserve their own anonymity. ‘See? That’s why he won’t let anyone close.’ She scrolled down to his tastes and kinks. ‘And here we find the buffet. Do you think Jev would be into some of that? He dreams about some of it about you, so maybe this would be a good fit?’

The list read like a highlights reel of Jev’s kinks. Restraints, spanking, watersports, exhibitionism and photo/video, fisting, frottage, pet play, cuddling. It was all there. Jules’ gut twisted at the thought of someone else pleasing Jev the way he had.

‘From the wistful look on your face, that’s a yes to something special?’

‘That’s a yes. To all of it. That lucky bastard gets to have my Jev submit to and be cared for by him.’

‘You still miss him?’

Jules sighed. ‘Yeah.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Not really, but thanks for asking.’

‘Ooh, look! This André guy is into rebuilding old cars. If he can put a car back together, he might be able to put your homeboy back together. Right?’

‘Maybe. Hopefully. Jev’s more complicated than an engine.’

‘But this guy has a dog and an eye for the details. He’ll be good enough with reading behaviour to hear what’s not being said. Do you want me to pull the trigger?’

Jules bent forward, took a deep breath, and hit the ‘pairing’ button at the bottom of the screen. ‘He’s going to look so gorgeous in the photos.’

The machine loaded the dream design interface.

‘Shall we give him a few Easter eggs in the dream to help fan the flames a bit before they meet?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, like, weave in a few things from your history that he enjoyed, so he has a platform to build on.’

Jules shuddered, wondering how he could get Zigi to leave the room while he did the assignment.

‘I won’t judge.’

‘Can we put André’s photo, pee, and rope kinks in the dream?’

‘Oh, there’s a dream about you that we can recycle with André as the leading man. I’ve given up trying to recycle that one, because he doesn’t even leave it a full day before he’s back thinking about it.’ Zigi dug in the drawer, and pulled out a photo of Jev in a shibari suspension, covered in candle wax, with urine dripping from the ropes. She handed it to Jules. ‘This one.’

Jules flashed back to the time they had done that, shuddering at the thought that people knew. It had been Jev’s idea, requested and planned entirely by him. He’d even printed out tutorials of how to safely tie the ropes in a suspension harness, which had made it all the hotter for Jules. He turned the picture over.

‘You can’t hide it from me. I’ve already seen it enough times to know it was mutually enjoyable, at least, he perceived you to be enjoying it.’

‘I did. Thanks for not starting with this one. I was worried a trainee preacher would disapprove of our…uh…activities.’

Zigi laughed. ‘Oh honey,’ she said in a Fran Drescher impression. She switched back to her regular voice. ‘I was raised Presbyterian. The total depravity of humankind is one of the basic tenets of Calvinist thought. It’s not a surprise to me. Besides, you act like I didn’t enjoy a cock in my ass on the regular before I started training for the clergy.’

‘Nice. So we can load that dream into the other one, and help Jev move on?’

Instead of answering, Zigi entered the code on the top of the picture into the input bar, and hit enter. ‘Done. You have no idea how satisfying it is to do two at once!’

‘I can imagine. That was easy to do, but if he keeps interfering with the recycling then maybe giving him a double whammy is the best solution. So how do I give the dream to those two Indian girls then?’

‘Let’s start with a really vivid night dream.’

‘Can we give it to both of them?’

‘It automatically happens that way. Something about balancing the equation, but to be honest, I wasn’t paying too much attention right then, because my teacher was making the most epic burrito. It was E-PIC. Like, a wrap bigger than I’ve ever seen, with cheeses that smelled all milky, and properly tangy guacamole, and sour cream. It was delicious.’ Zigi sighed. ‘Sorry, we were talking about co-dreaming. Coming back to the topic, I do know that if they talk about it, the dream is more likely to take root. That might be why the double dream is automatic.’ Zigi squinted at the screen. ‘Oh, great, I just remembered that one of the girls is a dream journaller. She’ll definitely remember this one.’ Zigi pulled up an old outline, added a few details, and clicked ‘queue dream.’ She waved at the drawer in front of Jules.

‘Next?’

‘That’s it for the two Indian girls? This is a precious dream I’m giving them. Shouldn’t we work a bit harder on it?’

‘I’ve already done six weeks of perfecting this dream for them, and your old lover keeps digging them out the bin. If you want to do more work, fine, but I’m not. Tomorrow, we’ll check its status. If we need to do more then, we’ll do more then.’ Zigi frowned at the screen. ‘I think I accidentally duplicated the dream once too many. It’s still asking for input.’

Jules felt excited. Perhaps Jev wouldn’t be able to retrieve both copies of the dream.

‘So those two boys in Nice?’

‘Let’s! They responded really well to a dream about meeting you two. I mean, of all the seed dreams I’ve designed for them, they respond best to that one.’

‘Maybe put André with Jev in the dream instead of me. If we’re trying to get Jev to move on, adding to people’s feelings for me isn’t going to help.’

‘Sure.’ Zigi entered the parameters and hit enter. She pointed at the drawer, pursing her lips expectantly. Jules obediently handed her the next picture. The glimpse he caught of it as he passed it to Zigi brought a lump to his throat. It was a picture of the dream Zigi had described the day before of him and Jev in their seventies, married and having lunch, surrounded by their children, grandchildren, and dogs. Zigi whistled softly as she took the picture from Jules.

‘Yoh! You have no idea how hard this one has been to recycle.’

‘He talked about this a lot when we were together. Having a family, growing old together.’ Jules sipped his tea, which was now almost cold. ‘How long does he wait until he digs it up?’

‘Less than a day, usually. Sometimes, it doesn’t even get through the recycling process before he’s dragged it back.’ Zigi stared down at the picture in her hand for a long time. ‘Shall we try duplicating this one as well?’ She looked up at Jules. ‘Add it to his stack of André dreams? The couples I’ve given this to before…same story as those boys who don’t want to get back in the car.’

‘Oh really? Who have you tried giving it to?’

‘A lovely couple in Kampala. They run a no-kill animal rescue centre together, and, over and above the dog and cat rescues and sterilization, and the wild animal orphan rehabilitation, they’re doing great work with community outreach, animal care education, captive chameleon breeding, and pangolin repatriation programs. They’re wonderful. I love them so much. Neither has rights to a non-Ugandan passport or residence permit, and they don’t earn enough to get an investors’ visa to one of the continents that’s legalised queer marriage. I was kinda hoping that by giving them that dream from up here, I’d shift the legislation. Trouble is, when he takes it back, the one who was corrective raped as a teenager loses hope and feels suicidal. Her losing the will to live strains their relationship. The Russian couple I’ve given it to stops leaving the house when he digs it up, other than to go to work. They also stop having the fabulous dinner parties that have spawned like three protest bands that I’ve found thus far. It’s cliché, but I guess gay men are just better at parties than everyone else.’

‘Jev was really good at making parties.’

‘The guy you picked for him likes partying, so win one for us.’

‘Let’s duplicate it. It sounds like all three of the couples could use some hope.’

Jules found it oddly enjoyable to make wedding dreams with Zigi. Her detailed knowledge of her charges’ backstory was impressive, and she worked at the task like she was making art. She let Jules take the lead on planning Jev and André’s wedding dream, putting in details he knew would touch Jev in nostalgic places. Not that thinking about Jev getting married wasn’t bittersweet, but Jules found it hopeful to make good things for his former lover. After he hit ‘upload’ at the end of the dream builder wizard, Jules sat back in the chair. Zigi pointed at the clock above the screen.

‘I reckon we’ve done enough for today. What do you think?’

‘I’ve done all I can handle, if that means anything to you.’

Zigi squeezed Jules’ forearm. ‘I get it. I’ve been avoiding recycling my boyfriend’s dreams about us, because seeing him dreaming about having babies together is too awkward.’

‘Did you want kids?’

‘No. I’m crazy Aunty Zigi. That’s all I ever wanted to be. Want to go down to the park for the drum circle? Take our minds off our exes getting on with their lives without us?’

‘Sounds great. Lead the way.’

**Author's Note:**

> Zigi’s job is inspired by a Kincaid (obscure 1970s rockers) song with the chorus, ‘Jenny, Jenny, dreams are ten a penny/Leave them in the lost and found’. She helped me think through that song (which comes on my dad’s favourite radio station every time he puts music on to cook), because it was bugging the shit out of me that ideas were fleeting. Her doing the recycling is a tribute to that month-long debate via whatsapp.
> 
> Turns out, the tingly mouth Dory mentioned was inspired by how her mouth tingled after eating peas. My mouth tingles like that for basically all the yummy, stinky cheeses. And yerba mate. Turns out, it’s mild anaphylaxis. I kept the tingle-mouth as a feature of Heaven, because it’s one of my favourite parts about eating stinky cheese. (I’m less into the sweats and the digestive symptoms, but tingle-mouth is a winner.) Space Australia Tumblr would have a quip about that, if they knew the both of us enjoyed some parts of borderline dying.


End file.
